Wed Lock
by Jessumika
Summary: Sherlock and John are finally getting married. What kind of shenanigans will ensue?
1. PreWedding Drinks

_I still can't quite believe it. -SH_

_What? -JW_

_You. And I. Getting married tomorrow. Is it...I keep worrying it's all in my head. -SH_

John smiled down at his phone and typed out a new message.

_Sherlock, stop worrying. Just be happy for once, will you? -JW_

_I am. I am. But Mrs. Hudson is being silly. Bad luck be damned, I want to see you before tomorrow. -SH_

_Sherlock... -JW_

_What? –SH_

_Behave. -JW_

John smiled affectionately at his phone screen.

_I will. But why do I have to stay outside the flat tonight? What's supposed to happen if I see you, anyway? This is ridiculous. -SH_

_Do you want me to go somewhere else, Sherlock? We can swap... -JW_

_No. I don't care about not being there. I care about not being with you. -SH_

_I'm not going to be able to sleep. -SH_

John frowned.

_It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride, Sherlock. -JW_

An idea came to him.

_I think it only applies to seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding day. And seeing as I'm not going to be wearing a dress, nor will you see what I /will/ be wearing tomorrow... -JW_

_And I'm not the bloody bride. -SH_

_I'm wearing a suit, thank you very much. -SH_

_I'm holed up in a hotel, thanks to Mycroft. Come if you can. -SH_

_I'm the bride, Sherlock. I know. What hotel? -JW_

_Rialto, near the Tower of London. -SH_

_It's rather nice, actually. -SH_

_On my way, love. –JW_

* * *

Sherlock grinned down at the screen of his phone, putting it on the bedside table and straightening a pillow on the bed. His head felt… light. Airy. Combined with the nervousness that refused to let go of his stomach, the effect was... interesting. New. Staggering. Christ! He was getting married tomorrow. Him. Sherlock Holmes. Oh, God.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Sherlock practically flung the door open and then flung himself into John's arms. It'd been _hours_ since they'd been together, since Mrs. Hudson had forcibly separated them. John hugged Sherlock back tightly, inhaling his scent. He felt himself relax into Sherlock's arms, as though he'd forgotten how to breathe, and Sherlock had just taught him how.

"It was a bit embarrassing how strange it felt, not having you with me," Sherlock murmured against John's hair. "The prospect of not seeing you till tomorrow, in the chapel. I didn't like it at all."

John kissed Sherlock's shoulder. "I know," he whispered. "But you'll have to survive alone for a few hours tomorrow, when I'm getting ready for our big day."

"No doubt I'll be pinched and pulled about by Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock grumbled. "I know how to put on a suit, but she insists on coming to help."

John giggled. "She's happy for us, darling."

"It seems everyone is," Sherlock said, realizing that they were still in the hall. He took John by the hand and let him into the hotel room. "Champagne in the fridge, magnificent view of London, full kitchen, and here I wish I was back at our dingy little flat."

John frowned. "It's not that dingy," he grumbled, offended. "I like it there."

"So do I," Sherlock reassured him. "Much better than this place, or Mummy's fussy mansion. Remember, she wanted to hold the wedding there, and when you saw it...the look on your face!" He kissed each of John's knuckles on his left hand, lingering on the finger that held his ring.

John smiled. "It is kind of huge, Sherlock."

John pulled Sherlock's face closer to his level, standing on his tip-toes to kiss his fiancé. Sherlock hummed in pleasure, reveling in the simple, sweet moment in front of the window, John's hands on his waist and Sherlock's hands on either side of John's face, tilting him upward the better to kiss him. It was easy. It was perfect. A warm bubble seemed to rise and burst in his chest every few minutes as he thought about the minutes, hours, days, months, years to come, all with John.

John smiled against Sherlock's lips. "That, Sherlock," he whispered, his eyes still closed, "is a human emotion."

Sherlock straightened up, and John struggled to reach Sherlock's lips again. "Damn." His lip jutted out in a pouting expression. "You're too tall."

"Then we'll have to cease being vertical, won't we?" Sherlock teased. "Poor, height-challenged Doctor Watson."

"Soon-to-be Doctor Holmes." John grinned. He'd been getting Sherlock with that one for weeks.

"Perfect," Sherlock murmured, leaning down to kiss John again, his eyelids, cheeks, jaw, then finally his lips. "Absolutely stunning."

"Sherlock...?" John whispered against his lips.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, softly. "What is it?"

"I love you."

"I knew that," Sherlock said affectionately.

John smiled. "I know."

"What now?" Sherlock asked, holding John close as they both looked out at the cars below, tourists and Londoners swarming the streets.

John smiled up at him. "Anything. It's our last night as unmarried men. You have anything you want to do? I could call Lestrade and have him take you out for your bachelor party."

"Those imply celebrating /not/ being married," Sherlock scoffed. "I'm rather looking forward to it." He smiled. "No, I think I'd rather stay right here with you."

John blushed slightly, the colour sending warmth through Sherlock. He walked to the bed, stripping off his jacked and jumper as he went.

"We'll save /that/ for tomorrow," Sherlock said, a gleam in his eye. "We'll have plenty of time. All the time in the world, in fact. To solve cases. Shag. Whatever we feel like. Right now I'd just like to...I don't know. Be in your presence. That's enough."

John laughed. "I was just getting warm, that's all. I don't intend to shag you until our honeymoon."

"I look forward to it," Sherlock smirked.

John smiled. "You seem to be excited for our first shag, Sherlock. I wonder what got you so excited."

"You, of course."

John chuckled. "Yeah, because you know what to expect."

Sherlock chuckled and John looked a bit grumpy. "Everyone thinks that I've shagged a million girls because I'm so old. And here I am, almost 40 and still a virgin, while my fiancé is only 32 and he's shagged more people than I want to know about."

Sherlock shrugged. "Not that many. And only for the purpose of experimentation."

"You liked it, admit it."

"Not yet," Sherlock said reassuringly. "Now hush. Enough boring talk. We have hours before they realize you're gone. What should we do?"

"I don't know, you're the genius. You decide."

"We could..." Sherlock hesitated. "I don't know. Champagne and a bit of togetherness seems nice. See if there's anything on telly?"

John nodded. "Sure."

Sherlock made his way to the kitchen. "Find the glasses?"

"Yeah," John replied from the other room as he reached into the stained wood cabinet.

"Thank you." Sherlock retrieves the light, bubbling bottles of wine from the fridge. "Happy nearly-wedding, Doctor Watson."

John pulled some glasses from the cupboards. "Happy almost-wedding, Sherlock Holmes."

The rest of the night passed in tipsy bliss; bit of crap telly, lots of sweet, champagne-flavoured kisses, and at one point a pillow fight. John fell asleep for a few hours, but Sherlock wasn't able to. But he lay with his John anyway, feeling the rise and fall of his abdomen as he breathed, and the gentle thrumming of his heart.


	2. PreWedding Worries

John woke around 5 am, jerking and sitting up sharply.

"Shh, shh." Sherlock was there in a second, helping him out of his slumber. "Bad dream?"

John nodded, rubbing his eyes. "It's been a long time since I had that one," he whispered.

"The war?" Sherlock asks, worry crossing his face. "Or the...the building...St. Bart's...?"

John flinched as he heard the second option.

"Sorry. Shh, I'm sorry." Sherlock pulled John close. "Which was it?"

"Bart's," John whispered.

Sherlock held John with all the force he could muster, trying to reassure him wordlessly that he was still there, wasn't going anywhere, that St. Bart's was behind them now. More than four years ago. It was all going to be okay, he tried to tell him. Today was going to be perfect.

John still hated going to St. Bart's. He avoided it whenever he could, even taking a longer taxi or tube ride to avoid it. As Sherlock recalled this, John slowly relaxed into his arms, trying to convince himself that it would never happen again,

"It's still early," Sherlock murmured. "You can go back to sleep if you like. You don't have to be back at the flat to get dressed until eleven."

"I can't sleep now." he whispered. "You haven't slept yet, have you?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I couldn't."

"Come on, lie down."

"I'm too nervous to sleep," Sherlock protested, though he did as John asked.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

John stroked Sherlock's cheek. "Shh. It's okay." He began to sing softly to Sherlock, his sure-fire way to get his darling to sleep. John's voice was deep and surprisingly fantastic, and it had a nearly instantaneous effect on Sherlock, who felt his worry ebb away gradually as he settled against the mussed bedsheets.

John smiled softly as he sang wordlessly, making up the tune as he went. He stroked Sherlock's hair softly, helping him relax. And Sherlock fell, very softly and sweetly, to sleep.

* * *

When he woke, John was already gone, and it was near half eleven. There was a note on the table beside Sherlock's bed.

_Sherlock,_ it read. _If you're reading this, I'm off and didn't want to wake you; you deny it, but you look like an angel when you sleep. Anyway, I've gone back to 221B. Chapel at two-thirty. I can't tell you how much I can't wait. Remember to smile. Love, John._

Elsewhere, John smiled as he fit himself into his clothes for the day.

* * *

Mycroft came over at noon to find Sherlock staring at the suit he was supposed to wear, a cup of steaming tea in his hand and an expression of pure terror on his features. Mrs Hudson was already there with Lestrade.

"Come now, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson cooed. "You wouldn't want to leave poor John at the altar on his own, now, would you?

"No," Sherlock said, "of course I wouldn't. But what if everything goes wrong?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "If you let John down, it will all go wrong. You've got an hour, Sherlock, wake up! This is important!"

"I am awake! I'm just terrified!" Sherlock snapped at him. "It's not as if _your _marriages have gone particularly well."

Lestrade winced. Sherlock's phone rang.

"What?" Sherlock said sharply into the receiver, not bothering to look who was calling.

There was a pause, then John's nervous voice. "Sh... Sherlock?"

"Oh. Oh!" Sherlock sobered immediately. "Sorry, John. Sorry. Are you alright?" Lestrade's small laugh sounded from somewhere to his left, and Sherlock gave everyone in the room the two-fingered salute with no fanfare.

"I-I'm fine, but I'm a little worried about you now."

"Fine. I'm fine. People are annoying me." Sherlock's voice softened. "Why are you calling? Is something wrong with the food? The flowers?"

John chuckled quietly. "No, love. Everything's perfect." His voice is warm and hopeful, and something about it melted Sherlock's heart. "I was just making sure that you weren't, you know..." John's voice became frightened. "Getting cold feet."

"Not at all," Sherlock said, though that wasn't completely true. Not cold feet exactly, more like Oh-God-what-if-everything-goes-wrong kind of feet. "And you?"

John paused. "You are, aren't you?"

"No! Not like you think. I'm just worried things won't go right and then you'll get angry and everything will be ruined and you'll leave or worse and now everyone in this bloody room is laughing at me and I know it's pointless to be anxious but I can't help it." Sherlock said this all in one breath.

John's voice softened. "Sherlock, sweetheart, it's okay to be nervous. I am too."

"That's...er, good. I think?"

John chuckled. "Sherlock, you have half an hour. Please get ready? Please?"

"Nearly there," Sherlock said. "Everything but the jacket."

John sounded relieved. "Really?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "It fits well. Molly did quite well on the clothes, I think."

Sherlock could hear John's smile through the phone. "Yeah, she did."

"Are you ready?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the quite bawdy jokes emanating from the other people in the room.

"Yeah. Already at the Chapel."

Sherlock smiled. "Be there within the hour," he said, closing the phone. Mrs. Hudson was smiling at him, her eyes filling with tears.

"So sentimental," Sherlock murmured to her, pulling her into a comforting hug. "It's not as if we're leaving the flat or anything."

"I know, dear," She whispered. "I'm just so happy for you two. Poor John was such a wreck when you left, and now you two are getting married." She sniffled. "It's just such a happy change."

"I know," Sherlock soothed her. "And you'll be right in the front row. Are you going to cry then, too?"

Mrs Hudson laughed. "Of course I will, dear."

"And John will, too, I expect."

"And I might, as well," Sherlock laughed. "Oh, this could be fun."

"We'd best get going, Sherlock." Lestrade put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Don't keep your bride waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sherlock agreed. "Mycroft, I assume you've a car waiting?"

Mycroft nodded, smiling at his brother.

"Shall we, then?" Sherlock pulled on his jacket, tucked John's note into his inside pocket, next to his heart, and held the door open for his companions. They followed him out, and Mycroft led them to the car.


	3. The Wedding

_{AN: This is going to slow down soon; I'm getting a bit slower on making this up as I go. Sorry, loves. Here's another chapter!}_

Mycroft was their minister today. He smiled on them both, looking down at the small crowd behind them as well. "It is one of life's richest surprises when the accidental meeting of two life paths lead them to proceed together along the common path as husband and wife. It is one of life's finest experiences when a casual relationship grows into a permanent bond of love. This meeting and this growth bring us together today.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, will you take vows here before all of us which symbolize the manifested vows you have already made and will continue to make to each other throughout your lives?"

"We will," they said together. Then John looked up at Sherlock.

"I, John Watson, take you, Sherlock Holmes, to be my lawfully wedded husband, secure in the knowledge that you will be my constant friend, my faithful partner in life, and my one true love. On this special day, I give to you in the presence of God and these witnesses my pledge to stay by your side as your faithful husband in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as well as through the good times and the bad. I further promise to love you without reservation, comfort you in times of distress, encourage you to achieve all of your goals, laugh with you and cry with you, grow with you in mind and spirit, always be open and honest with you, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

Now it was Sherlock's turn.

"I, Sherlock Holmes, take you, John Watson, to be my lawfully wedded husband, knowing in my heart and mind that you will be my constant friend, my faithful partner in life, and my one true love. On this special day, I give to you in the presence of God and these witnesses my pledge to stay by your side as your faithful husband in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as well as through the good times and the bad. I further promise to love you without reservation, honor and respect you, provide for your needs as best I can, protect you from harm, comfort you in times of distress, grow with you in mind and spirit, always be open and honest with you, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

Mycroft opened his arm, speaking to the crowd. "The circle is the symbol of the sun, earth, and universe. It is the symbol of peace. Let this ring be the symbol of unity and peace in which your two lives are joined in one unbroken circle. Wherever you go, return unto one another and to your togetherness."

Sherlock slipped the simple gold band onto John's finger. "I give you this ring to wear upon your hand as a symbol of our unity in steadfast love."

John, in turn, pushed Sherlock's ring onto his finger. "I give you this ring to wear upon your hand as a symbol of our unity in steadfast love."

It felt unreal to have the words he'd just recited to John be spoken back to him as they stood in the great room of a cosy little chapel lost somewhere in the Cotswolds, surrounded by the people he'd always held as arm's length, but through John's nurturing and zest for the more pleasant things in life, Sherlock had grown to love them as much as they had apparently loved him. The very idea that John asked for this, that John wanted to be his companion, his /wedded husband/, still astounded Sherlock. His mind had been buzzing the entire morning before the ceremony and he found himself unable to concentrate on the simplest of tasks. The only thing that successfully derailed Sherlock's train of thought and silenced the chatter was the cool silky feeling of the gold band sliding onto his ring finger. Sherlock looked down at it, at John's fingers holding his hand carefully, up the sleeve of his black jacket across the white waistcoat and into John's shining eyes. Sherlock smiled as the last missing piece of his puzzle fell perfectly into place.

Mycroft smiled down at them, putting down his arms at last. "You are mature people who have established individual patterns of living. Yet you have found not only a need for companionship, but the satisfaction of that need in each other's company. It is this love, based upon a responsible understanding, that will aid you in creating out of your two lives, a marriage and a happiness you will share together. Stand fast in hope and confidence, believing in yourself and believing in each other.

In as much as you two have come before your friends and family and have declared your love and devotion to each other, I now greet you with them as husbands."

"You may kiss," said their minister.


	4. Sign on the Dotted Lign

"You may kiss," said Mycroft.

Sherlock wanted to say something clever, something that would alleviate the ache in the base of his throat because God, the look of love in John's eyes ripped him to shreds. Sherlock opened his mouth, but the words stalled. Instead he bent forward and cupping John's cheek with one hand he gently pressed his lips against John's lips and the small crowd around them erupted with joyous applause. Someone popped champagne and already the party was beginning.

John kissed him back, any noise in the room was unheard by him. He was lost in the amazing warmth and completion in his heart. He eventually pulled away, blushing.

Sherlock curled his hand behind the back of John's neck and they both turned to face their friends. Harry shoved drinks into both of their hands and Sherlock looked down at John when they began chanting, "Speech, speech!"

John flushed brightly. "I-I can talk, I guess... U-unless you want to."

"All right, I'll say something," Sherlock offered much to the mock groans of Lestrade.

"Don't get him started!" Greg shouted.

Sherlock ignored it and lifted his glass. "I never thought that John even liked me when we first met, much less would ever want to marry me years later. John Watson is the best, most loving and caring man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He told me once that I'd saved his life, but he was the one who saved me. Or rather, John saves me. He saves me from being an idiot when I'm wrong, and even when I'm right, he tempers me. I would be the man that I am now, if it weren't for John. I wouldn't be the man worthy of having John Watson and for that I'm eternally grateful to you, John." Sherlock smirked and kissed John again.

John kissed him back, his fingers tangling in Sherlock's hair. "You're welcome," he whispered against his lips.

"I love you, John," Sherlock said and when the music started he shook his head. "But, I'm not dancing!"

John's face fell slightly. "That's okay..."

Lestrade booed him. Mrs Hudson sighed sadly, wiping her eyes and shaking her head.

"Ah, John," Sherlock conceded quickly and held out his hand. "Come on then. How can I deny you your first dance."

John brightened considerably and took Sherlock's hand. Sherlock smiled and stealing another kiss, he pulled John into his arms and as close as he dared, as they were in front of their friends and he wasn't about to scandalise them on his wedding day. Sherlock rested his lips against John's temple and moved with him, agile and graceful, well aware that all eyes were on his beautiful John.

He couldn't blame them, even if John was ordinary. He was average, but he was magnificent and brilliant and all his. Sherlock squeezed him and kissed his forehead. John was a bit clumsy, but Sherlock's grace outweighed John's idiocy on the dance floor. He looked up and Sherlock, then laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder as they danced.

"I think we should bid our farewells," Sherlock whispered into John's ear. "Don't we have a flight to catch?"

He smiled and nodded. "In a few hours, yeah. We should thank Mycroft for the jet. You think we should go now?" he asked.

"If you'd like to say, John, then we can stay. There's still cake," he answered with a smile and kissed him again. It was fast becoming his new favourite thing, kissing John in public.

He beamed. "You did say you'd help me cut the cake."

"That I did, John. And I am a man of my word." Sherlock released John and there was his dear old brother waiting patiently for them when they approached the table holding the beautifully understated confection. Leave it to Mycroft to have designed such a masculine piece. Mycroft handed the large knife to John and laying his hand upon John's hand, Sherlock let John guide them into cutting a slender slice of cake which John dumped onto a plate.

John looked up at Sherlock over his shoulder, then stepped away slightly. He forked a small mouthful of cake and held it out to Sherlock. "Come on. You said you liked sweets."

Clasping his hands behind his back, Sherlock obediently leaned forward and opened his mouth, waiting for John. John popped the cake into Sherlock's mouth, smiling widely. Several camera flashes went off. Sherlock cut off a bit of the cake with the same fork and did the same for John.

"I've always liked watching you eat, John," he admitted a bit shyly. "You do it with such relish." He blushed, chewing his cake eagerly.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Sherlock smiled. "No, certainly not." Suddenly the lights dimmed and the music became louder. John smiled and pulled Sherlock back onto the 'dance floor', which was really just a small-ish section of empty stone floor in the chapel, nodding to Mycroft. Their guests joined them, the thirty or forty people who had been invited left the small building. Once John and Sherlock had been left alone in the stone room, Mycroft cleared his throat.

"You have some documents to sign, Sherlock." He said. John beamed and, still holding Sherlock's hand, walked over to Mycroft, who had their documents laid out on a table already. John signed eagerly, his messy scrawl slightly shaky from his jittering nerves. Sherlock signed calmly, his elegant hand combined on the same sheet of paper as John's. He smiled.

It took only 5 minutes to get all the documents signed. Mycroft and Mrs Hudson acted as their witnesses. John was crying with Mrs Hudson, and the Holmes brothers looked at each other in exasperation. But it was soon over. They emerged from the chapel, Mrs Hudson and Mycroft hanging back so as not to get sprayed by the huge amounts of rice being thrown at the two newlyweds. John laughed and ducked slightly, skipping through the crowd. Greg pelted him with rice, aiming at John's head. Sherlock sent a glare his way and the rice was instead redirected at Sherlock's ear.

They got into the limousine that Mycroft had lent to them, panting and giggling. John leaned back in the car, smiling at Sherlock.

"I love you so much," he said softly, stroking his fingers through Sherlock's hair, dislodging pieces of rice.

"I love you too, John," Sherlock murmured. They both leaned in and sealed their wedding ceremonies with a kiss.


End file.
